


The Republic of Light

by BeaRyan



Category: Revolution (TV), The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Girl Saves Boy, No Revolution ships are ruled in or out by this fic, Snark, So Much Snark, Team Matheson-Monroe, sand pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 11:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/pseuds/BeaRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Murphy remembered was falling asleep in the boat, adrift in a sea of salt water, thinking “Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.” When he awakened he was in an ornate room with Jaha and the desert squad and eavesdropping as Emori explained to someone named Bass why she had brought them to the City of Light / Monroe Republic. (Alternative summary: For the first time in his life, John Murphy might not be the sassiest bastard in the room.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Republic of Light

"What the hell, Emori!?! You're only an honorary Matheson. Do you have to take in useless human pets like the rest of them?" 

The voice echoed down the hallway towards him and drug Murphy out of his mental fog and back to consciousness. Emori. He remembered Emori, cute with a claw, didn't look at him like he was a piece of shit. Nice girl. 

A different voice, male and nasal with a tone that rolled its eyes, answered, "I swear one of these days I'm going to take my nanites and go home." 

The first voice answered, "Where's home, StayPuft? Where are you going to go that's better than here?" 

Murphy tried to look around without moving. If you could put off your captor's attention, you did it for as long as possible. He'd been in a boat with Jaha, waiting to die, when he'd fallen asleep. He hadn't expected to wake up again at all. Usually for him being alive when he should have been dead meant things were about to get even worse. Freaking great. 

The room was bright, with a white ceiling and elaborately paneled walls hung with what looked like actual paintings and some decorative weapons. There was a marble topped table, a couch that looked expensive and uncomfortable, and an ornately carved, open door that was letting in the sounds of bickering. Windows with glass ran the length of one wall - store that away in case he needed to make a quick exit later. He'd seen places like this in books. Old earth palaces and government halls. Definitely out of place in the desert. There was something wrong with the light, too. There was too much of it to be inside a room, even one with windows. 

"Can you move?" Jaha's voice this time, probably directed at him. Murphy rolled his head to the side. Yeah, he could move. He had a hell of a dehydration headache, but he hurt too much to think he was dead. He was bored with pain and tired of edging right up against death. It almost felt like he was a failure at failing. 

Murphy pushed himself up on his elbows and took the cup Jaha was offering. Crystal and full of very clear water. Where were they and who the hell were these people yelling in the hall? 

He could hear Emori's voice, faint and accented as it flowed towards him. "I'm sorry, Mr. President. He was kind to me. We conscripted all their goods, but I didn't want to leave them to die." 

Another voice, female this time. “Emori, Why did you bring them here, to Presidential Hall?” 

“I left them a boat, Charlie, but they didn’t use it well. When the GPS showed it had stopped moving I went to check on them. They weren’t well. I couldn’t just leave them in the processing office.”

“You gave them a boat?!?” 

Another voice, male, slightly slurring and world weary, said, "Settle down, Bass. The kid will be fine in the militia. The adults had some technology on them, so they must be Sky People. They can join Aaron in the Dungeon." 

Jaha tensed and the others in the Sky People group scanned the room for anything to use as a weapon. One grabbed a lamp, another a fireplace poker. John Murphy wasn't one to screw around. He pulled the decorative sword from the wall. Scabbard in one hand and the weapon in the other, he was at least ready to give a shot at that "good death" the Grounders were so hot on. 

A young woman with long hair, tight pants and more exposed skin than Murphy had ever seen on anyone who wasn't trying to work her way into Bellamy's bed (he now thought of those as the good old days, right after the dropship landed) entered the doorway, cast one glance at the Sky People and doubled over with laughter. When she spoke, Murphy recognized her voice as the one Emori had called Charlie. "You are not going to believe this," she called to her people. "Miles, come look at this." 

A dark-haired man joined her in the doorway. He looked like he beat his clothes on a rock not to get them clean but just to show them who was in charge, and his hair seemed to have a mind of its own. He laughed, too, and then Miles called, "Bass, you have got to see this."

A third person joined them, pushing past them to get into the room. He looked like a classical statue come to life and his clothes were crisper than any Murphy had ever seen. The uniform seemed to exude power, working the threat of violence into its tightly tailored lines. The man glanced at the tattered, hastily armed Sky People and threw up his hands. "You are kidding me. You have got to be kidding me." 

The other two laughed harder at his outburst, and Emori and another man, large and unarmed, joined the group, pushing Charlie and Miles into the room. "I see our guests are going to fit right in around here," he said. His entire being conveyed, "No wonder we're always in the shit when I'm surrounded by assholes." 

Jaha stepped forward. His walk showed his usual faith in his mission and the casual confidence of madness. He seemed weak and childish when compared to Bass, all swagger and smiles, as the two approached each other in the hallway. Murphy tightened his grip on his sword. 

Jaha said, "We were looking for the City of Light. Our water was stolen and I believe I overheard Emori say she was the one who brought us here. Surely if she put in all that effort to save us, it's better to honor her work and let us continue our journey."

Bass said, "Only outsiders call it the City of Light. We call it the Monroe Republic." 

"RE-public!" Miles and Charlie said together, stressing the first syllable and nudging each other at the joke. 

"So we've reached it?" Jaha asked. 

Bass nodded. 

"I'm looking for a safe haven for my people." 

"Sky People?" 

"That is what they call us here," Jaha said. Sincerity dripped off of him like honey falling from a comb of highly structured insanity. "We call ourselves human, like you." 

"I want some of whatever you're on, Captain Happy," Bass answered. He addressed the rest of his remarks to the three people behind Jaha. "Anyone with tech skills can work with Aaron in the Dungeon." 

"I won't deliver you my people just so you can enslave them." 

The large man broke into the conversation, calling out from behind the protection of Miles, Charlie, and Emori. "Don’t worry about it. He's an ass. He calls it the Dungeon so he can call me the Dungeon Master." 

"It's an exact replica of his mom's basement. Based on how much money he made, it was a pretty good place to work in the old, old world." Bass turned his attention to the man behind Murphy. "Put down my lamp. I like that one and it's plugged in. It would make a lousy club and then I'd stab you for breaking it." 

The large man addressed the group, "I'm Aaron, and I'm going to lunch..." 

"Of course you are," Bass broke in.

Aaron continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Why don't you all come with me, get some food, and we'll talk about your technical specialties?" 

The Sky People more or less disarmed and trailed after Aaron. Jaha had never raised a weapon and the man with the lamp carefully set it back in place. The woman with the poker kept it but tried to be subtle. Murphy didn't bother to sheathe his stolen sword, and Miles stopped him as he passed. "You're with me." 

"Thanks, but I don't swing that way." 

Laughter burst forth from Charlie, and Bass called out, "You're losing your touch." 

The swords made a sound, metal on metal with a promise of pain, as Miles unsheathed them, and Murphy instinctively raised his weapons and took a step back. Miles cocked his head. "You aren't stupid. That's refreshing actually." 

It was a quick battle, the older man grunting, charging and slapping hard as he used the flat of his sword to knock Murphy's weapons away. With the younger man disarmed, Miles put the point of his blade in the hollow of Murphy's throat and backed him against the wall. "Congratulations. You've been conscripted for the militia. You'll probably make lieutenant in a year." 

Murphy took a deep breath, feeling the poke of the sword against his throat at even that small movement, and fought the urge to close his eyes. "You can take your militia and shove it in your dungeon." 

Miles gave him a tired grin. "Fifteen years ago I would have happily beaten you into line, but this time around I'm doing things differently." 

"If you're going to kill me anyway, could we skip the monologue?" 

Miles turned to look at Emori. "You brought him home. You can housebreak him." With that said, he left, disappearing back through the doorway and out of sight. 

Emori's eyes grew wide and she froze for a moment before turning to Charlie. It was one of those conversations girls had with nothing but glances, sighs, and shrugs. Those usually didn't end well for Murphy. 

Charlie gave Murphy a stare that would have chilled him four months ago. Now he’d met Indra, Anya, Lexa, Raven… The list of women he was certain wouldn’t blink before killing him was pretty long. 

"She's like a sister to me," Charlie said. From her wide-legged stance with her arm bent and her hip cocked, Murphy wasn't sure if she was about to attack him with the knife strapped to her thigh or break into a dance number. "You don't want to find out what I do to people who hurt a member of my family." 

Bass gave her a loaded look. "You date them?" 

"Do you want to work with me, John?" Emori asked softly. 

She was brick wrapped in velvet, soft and solid in all the best ways, and Murphy would have done anything she wanted if she’d just keep looking at him like that. Still, pride made him ask before he said yes. "What's the job?" 

"Miles and Bass call me a sand pirate. Aaron says I'm a Tusken Raider. I protect the City of Light," she cast a glance at Bass, "The Monroe Republic from outsiders and in return I can keep whatever I conscript." 

"You roam the desert and steal," Murphy said. 

"I go where I like and I take what I need." 

"I’m in.” It was, by far, the best offer he’d gotten since getting to Earth, possibly the best offer of his life. There was no way he was going to let it slip by. Finally something was going right for John Murphy. A pretty girl who made him feel like he couldn’t breathe and a life of crime. This could work. This could really work.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Unbeta'd, because, let's be honest, my go-to betas are probably half the audience for this fic. 
> 
> 2\. The author responds to Pavlovian training. Comment me baby. Oh yeah. Just like that.


End file.
